Authors Note: Hello friends, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Just a few more until we return to the current part of the story. Please, let me know your thoughts. Comments help the story more than you can imagine. Thanks and enjoy.
Why we failed one-hundred years ago
part 11-
A Ballad of Bowstrings
Nearly one hundred men were heralded forth from the shadow of the corridor to march onto the arena of sand. From knights of high birth to former cutpurses, spectators roared in cheers and boos alike when each took to the field, an aspirant for glory, wealth, and redemption. One by one they lined along the wooden walls, presenting themselves to the audience that eagerly awaited their triumphs and falls.
Link, clad in a full set of armor and adorned with his prized wolf-helm, stood like a statue amidst the throng, humbled by the sea of faces watching them. A nervous gurgle bubbled in his belly, and his breath, heavy with anticipation, fogged the razor-sharp teeth of his visor. Just as the nerves threatened to overwhelm him, A friendly voice offered encouragement from behind. Jun had returned.
Snapping to attention, Link asked, "I was beginning to worry you found some better sense than I have and changed your mind and left for good. What did the guards want with you anyway?"
"Not what they wanted, but what she wants," Jun replied cryptically.
"Huh?" Link whispered, still facing forward to listen to the grand herald's loud, croaking voice echo over the crowd. Jun eagerly stood beside him, swiftly tying a blue and golden ribbon made from a small sash, around the crease of his elbow on his right arm. "What the?"
"She gave me it, it's for us! See!" Jun exclaimed, gesturing also to the banner he had fashioned from a similar, soft satin garment, now streaming proudly from the point of the spear pole. "The princess. These are her house colors, and she wants us to represent her for all to see, isn't that great? Now we have a banner as good as any! Better in fact! It's her own!"
Link gulped, barely squeaking out, "Y—yeah." That's exactly why I'm beginning to worry. He was torn between pride in the high honor of representing the princess and fear of the responsibility it entailed. Any misstep could tarnish her prestigious name in embarrassment or worse, shame. He cannot fail, he mustnot fail.
Jun, waving the flag for all to see, drew cheers from the audience. Though Link's vision was obscured by his visor, Jun relayed that the eager gazes of the royal enclosure were fixed on them. "Don't worry, Sir, we will win! And don't you fret about the mule, I have a plan!"
Link listened as the boy continued. "Perchance, I can do a quick trade with someone else while you're doing the archery contest. It should be a while between the jousts and melee, and I won't be much of help until then."
Link muttered back, juggling between hearing his squire and the herald at the same time. "Well, let's hope so. Or we're both going to live to regret wearing these colors."
"Leave it to me!" Jun insisted confidently.
The Herald then finally announced with a grandiose flourish, "And now, I say to you all, let the battles begin and let the best man win! Everyone—I give you, chosen by her Majesty herself to lead the first contest, Arch-master Revali and pride of the Rito skies!"
Revali awoke where he stood leaning against the wooden walls off to the side. Slightly flustered yet determined, flapped lightly atop the stage. From the commons swarming the picket fences to the nobility comfortable in their booths. Stunned silence immediate rang out after he took the stand and Revali's hawkish eyes darted across the stadium, to the crowd and finally to evaluate the challengers. It was then by a happy chance he glanced up to also find the eager and ginger gaze of the princess high up in the royal enclosure locked on him, waiting on bated breath what he would do or say next.
He began slowly at first. "It is with great honor that she has given me, our new heir apparent to the goddess, Princess Zelda, that I welcome you all and most of all, aspiring contestants to your first challenges!"
He then bent his beak to address the contenders directly, "Here you've gathered with dreams of valor, aiming to impress the princess. But it would take far more than just dreams to win the day. Out of a hundred maybe half will go the distance and from that lot perhaps only a handful may see the end. But only three will ascend to glory and be given the opportunity to partake in a chance of a lifetime-The Trial of the Flame alongside the Royal Cadets!"
Link and Jun listened intently and thoughtfully while others who thought themselves better smirked to themselves and to one another brazenly. 'Who does this Rito think he is?' they said in hushed murmurs.
Revali paraded on the platform in well placed steps, continuing his speech like a general rallying his troops for battle. "It will take grit and no small degree of talent that only few ever come to realize. There will be no hiding from my keen eyes. I will sift out the wheat from the chaff. I will find the true warriors among men. I give you the Contest of the Dancing Arrow!"
The crowd erupted in applause as Revali raised his wings high to the sky, commanding their attention. "But let's not delude ourselves — these tests are a dance of wit and skill, one I doubt many of you can keenly perform. You must learn to become one with your target," he chuckled haughtily, "Though most of you will simply become part of the scenery." He turned his hawkeyed gaze on the contenders, almost leering at them.
"You must attempt to bend the elements to your will — a feat I perform effortlessly. And as for the storm's fury, let's see if any of you can muster a semblance of the poise it takes to stand amidst the tempest as I do! Then and only then, may you have a chance at seizing your dreams!" The audience's applause rose again in excitement, and many a noble were now stomping their feet against the decks as they sat in their booths awaiting the climax of his speech. Others drummed their mugs to match and like a rising storm the stadium swelled into a thunder of cheers. Revali then faced them and waved his feathers one last time for them to listen, his eyes eager to prove them that perhaps he was the only one capable of such daring feats.
At his command he pointed to the center of the arena. Miraculously, the massive arena quaked and opened at the center of the field to the shock of everyone. The rumbling sound of large, age-old gears, cogs, pulleys, and reels creaked and turned beneath their feet. To everyone's shock, a secret trapdoor revealed a hidden chamber below the ground. White sands began to spill into the mysterious black void below until, from out of nowhere, a long row of wand-shaped targets rose to the surface to take its place. The audience gasped in wonder at the sight of the long line of what appeared to be fifty thin posts. Zelda also clapped her hand over her mouth in excitement of the jubilant show, unable to believe it herself. Even the aspiring warriors were at a loss for words. Some even taking frightened steps back out of sheer caution to the walls that corralled them in, lest they fall into the foreboding chasm.
Revali continued, as if he knew all along of the contraption that revealed itself. "Be swift, be precise, but above all, be aware: it is the archer's will and wits, not the arrow's flight, that truly shapes our destiny. And should you find your wits quivering more than your bowstring, well... I suggest you enjoy the view of my back as I demonstrate how it's truly done."
With a flourish, he tossed his bow into the air and leapt catching it in his talons with a gust of wind, unleashing three arrows in swift motion in opposing directions toward thin targets on the raised platform. One in the middle, and two at the furthest edge. Each shaft hit its mark with pin-point precision, shrieking through the humid, frosty air in a blaze of speed and glory. Zelda could have blinked, and she would have missed the whole thing.
The contenders and the crowd, from the commons to the nobility, watched in awe. And in a split-second, three thin, barely perceivable posts were struck and erupted. Their flints sparked, lighting fuses which launched glitter rockets skyward to dazzle the late afternoon sky with starbursts of gold, blue, and streams of red flames that rivaled the sunset. Their booms of light bathed the princess and her friends in a soothing warm glow of glittering wonder that reflected in their delighted eyes. A blanket against the incoming night chill. The trials had begun, led by Revali, whose prowess and confidence were now on full display, setting the tone for the challenges that lay ahead.
In the royal booth, a symphony of chatter and laughter filled the air, mingling with the rich scents of the delicacies laid out before them. As the glitter rockets enthralled the honorary guests, heralding the games' beginning, their conversations continued to flow like a dance of words.
Prince Arcturus, always one to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, quipped with a hearty laugh, "Now, that isn't something you see every day!" He chased his mirth with a gulp of brew, preferring the drink of commons over the finer wines, and wiped foam from his chin. "I swear, those glitter rockets are getting better and better every time I see them. Even to go so far as to contend against the might of thunderstorms brought by heaven itself. I wonder how they do it?"
Zelda, her eyes still sparkling from the allure of the glittering sky, shared in the wonder. "I know, from what I hear, the cannoneers are getting quite adept at their craft, now that Purah and the others have found more ancient records on the subject and have been able to translate the secret arts of fire-craft from their pyromancer ancestors. The sheer brilliance of what the ancients achieved and how much we forgot was our greatest folly as a people. But, that said, even this spectacle, I did not expect to be so grand. They are marvelous!"
Purah, ever proud of her contributions, cracked her knuckles over the table. "Yup! We are finding all kinds of treasures more and more every day. You should join us sometime," she said, referring to the ancient findings they've recently discovered in the Dying Mountains.
Zelda shot her a look of wishfulness, her eyes darting to her father and his entourage seated behind her, merrily enjoying themselves, a subtle cue to Purah, that it wasn't up to her. "Hopefully, after this tournament, I intend to. After all, I will practically have an entire company assigned for my protection, so there shouldn't be a problem if all goes well," she said wistfully.
Purah nodded. "And I have just the particular surprise in store for you, but you're going to have to wait until your ascension to see it first. Three surprises, you can say."
Zelda, intrigued yet patient, smiled, remembering the three large contraptions that were cleverly covered in tarps that rolled out onto the arena earlier. What could they be? The thought of not knowing gnawed at her but she relented to wait instead prod for more clues.
Her uncle, sensing an opportunity, teased her. "Speaking of ascension, aren't you going to be needed soon to take to the balcony? I hear you have quite the speech penned up to rally the people, my dear." He winked, knowing well her aversion to public speaking. Zelda dreaded the idea and had never been in a predicament where she was forced to give riveting speeches to the people. This would be her first test as a true ruler of the realm and not the paper princess so many have whispered behind her back.
Urbosa, reassured her warmly from behind before her doubts could dampen her mood. "Don't you worry, you'll do just fine," she said, her voice a comforting blanket of warmth.
Arasmus, taking a more cavalier approach, commented before munching on a small, honey-caramel dipped apple on a stick. "She need not dread now. Because first, that blue parrot needs to finish up his business and then the show can really begin," he said.
Famished, he then washed down a few nibbles of perfectly roasted pigeon wings with a gulp of Cremia Red and before raising his goblet for others to join in, he continued his thoughts aloud. "Here's to a quick contest so we can get on to the main event. It will soon be nightfall. I predict we only have but an hour until then." Whether it was Crimson Courage or its sister pairing, Scarlett Seduction, was anyone's guess. Judging by his boldness, likely the former. "And besides," he turned to face Zelda and placed his hand gently over hers on the table. "I'm sure our Princess will exceed all expectations."
Zelda, maintaining her composure, gently chided him. "Do you think we should be demeaning our esteemed guest by denoting to him as a parrot?" She said, subtly pulling back her hand.
"I meant no offense. I'm only eager to get to your shining moment is all, my Sundelion," Arasmus replied, his charm masking his impatience.
Ignoring his endearment, Zelda retorted, "After all, I don't see you eager to volunteer your talents for this grand occasion."
Her uncle, joining the banter, added, "Yeah, from what I hear, My Lord, you're one of the best swords in all the land. I think it would be a swell idea and a great honor for you to show us all your prowess and skill. So that we may learn how true champions are forged." Arcturus said, before chortling again, glancing around to those who were now eagerly listening. He had everyone's undivided attention. "In fact, with the way they tell it back in the Stonelands, you may be the hero we've been searching for all this time. Who knew? Perhaps, there's still time for you to enlist your talents? After all, there will be three days of feasts and tournaments."
"An exaggeration, I'm sure." Arasmus said flatly, swigging a modest gulp from his cup yet again. "But I am humbled by your high opinion of me, My Prince." He then let out a winded sigh, gazing down below at the would-be participants. "Though, I must confess, I have trained under the best, so it isn't all without merit. The tall tales, I mean." The young lord said, his dark eyes gleaming back the orange glow of the brazier light. Like a fire unable to melt the impenetrable frost of icy blue stones.
One of his lieutenants added beside him. "It's true. He is the best. I've seen him single-handedly slay three Yiga outlanders, a scout, and one of their vicious butchers all at once." That was the name for their most ferocious of killers, 'butchers'. Their chiefest of assassins. Arasmus folded his arms proudly yet trying to convey as much humility as possible. Zelda on the other hand wasn't entirely convinced. Though she must admit, she had known he was a warrior.
The young Lord spoke again. "He is just being proud of his commander and esteems me far too much. It was only a single butcher and a scout. That's all."
"Well, you must admit that is still quite the accomplishment. Not too many stripes for valor are earned these days." Zelda's uncle leaned curiously to the nodding of other nobles nearby. "I hear their butchers are the most ruthless of seasoned warriors among us. So, that must surely account for something, especially after this long peace we've had since the Rivercross Rebellion. Hardly any man sees combat these days, let alone have skirmishes with our fiercest enemy in the borderlands. Perhaps, we may have a living legend in the making here with us, after all. What do you think, Sweet Niece? Is he our champion that we've been searching for?" Zelda's Uncle complimented again, seasoned with a dash of sarcasm.
Arasmus, not one to be outdone, boasted before she could set her goblet down to reply, "If that's true what you say, then why are we even having this tournament? You might as well crown me the victor here and now. That being said, I accept your compliments graciously."
Before Zelda could respond, the seneschal, always ready with a dull-minded quip, joined in banter with that honey-laced tone of his, smooth as silk to the ears, in stark contrast to his brother, the grand herald, whose voice croaked like a toad. "Perhaps, that's not a bad idea, if you truly are the best Hyrule has to offer, why not crown you the victor and be done with it so we can move onto the celebrations?" he said, stiffening where he sat. "My backside is already starting to cramp from sitting here." He then wiggled on his flattened cushion, much to Zelda's mild annoyance and astonishment.
How could it be possible for a man to be so intolerant of soft, plush feather pillows for their arse to sit on? I would never be able to understand, Zelda mused to herself. I swear, if one didn't know better, they'd mistaken him for the princess with the way he whined from such a lavish lifestyle. If only he knew and had a taste of what the common people had to endure, he would probably die just by the thought of it. It was true though. Those poor folks weren't even shielded by the drizzling skyfall that had dampened the tournament thus far and yet this man whines about the trouble of having to flip his padded pillow for a better seat. Yet, even with what the commons had to endure, they still eagerly and merrily shouted their excitements for the games. Rain or shine, blizzard or hurricane, they would gladly stand and watch this once in a lifetime show.
Prince Arcturus chuckled at Arasmus. "Your father would like that. An end to the games and a coronation ceremony? But there's just one little snag, My Lord."
"And what's that?" inquired Arasmus, curiosity piqued.
"The legendary Sword of Evil's Bane has not been found and only he who is master of the Sword that Seals the Darkness, may claim the rights of Hero." He then smiled and returned to talking to the rest of the guests. "So, you see, our Lord Friend here has some searching to do if he wants to be granted that honor."
Arasmus snorted dismissively. "It's not to me. I leave those foolish myths for the dreamers to find. I'm not even convinced there even is a sword. Just a bunch of stories made up by nursemaids who are trying to get rambunctious children to bed at night. A tale for simple-minded folks," he said, waving his hand dismissively over the crowd below them in the stands, as if saying they were the ones he was referring to.
Zelda, seizing the moment, retorted defiantly, "I for one believe in the old legends. As do our people." The princess leaned to face him. "Are you calling me simple minded?"
"No, I—uh," Arasmus quickly shifted his tone. Suddenly, he spoke as sweetly as a singer's song. "I—I, believe in you, My Princess. No legends necessary. Who needs the strength of men from fairytales when we have the heir of the goddess among us blessing us with her divinity?"
His comeback was good. Perhaps too good and for once, Zelda, was caught off guard by his display of authenticity, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words. So, she remained silent. The others around them smiled, sipped their drinks at their little lovers quarrel or so they assumed it must have been, and continued to engage in small chatter and light laughter. And when Zelda finally thought of the perfect response, Revali's voice boomed again, drawing everyone's attention back to the contest.
As they watched and listened, Zelda couldn't help but marvel at the arena's acoustics the builders woven into the very walls of the stadium, which carried Revali's voice like a tempest wind. She could hardly believe how the talented carpenters guild, Sonstar, could craft such magnificent art into their woodwork. The arena was made so that she could've closed her eyes, and the voice of Revali, though at ground level, could be heard standing right beside her, his voice so crystal clear that until she opened them, she would've never have guessed. And as a bonus, it seems all their fortunes had taken a turn for the best and the downpour had let up when the glitter rockets shattered the clouds in the sky.
Revali heralded his commanding voice to everyone and the contestants. "For your first challenge, you must prove your worthiness to be here today. A simple test with a bowstring." The men nodded in eager approval and anticipation. The proud Rito then flapped into the air before gracefully landing onto the field. There he waved his feathers like a wand again at the row of fifty tiny posts ahead of them. Each target stood in a line perched atop a device that had pulleys and chains beneath.
"Each man must line up to their posts and achieve as many bullseyes as possible in the allotted time, from this distance!" Revali pointed to the long line of targets, pillars gapped several feet apart of one another on a wooden platform that stood in the middle of the arena, stretching from one end of the stadium to the other.
"Are you mad? That's nearly fifty yards!" Scoffed a displeased contender among the throng of hopeful challengers.
"Seventy-five to be precise!" Revali said back pleased. His eyes gleamed mischievously as he turned to face the heckler. "If you're so worried then I suggest you drop out now if you don't have the stomach for it. For this is just a simple taste of the challenges that are to come." Revali chuckled to himself, almost sadistically happy before continuing his speech. "Oh, and did I mention the targets would be moving?"
The casual noises of the crowd were replaced by unified gasps of awe and intrigue. Mutters of 'that's impossible' could be heard although Link couldn't tell from who. The contenders could hardly believe what they were up against. Such a daring endeavor. The brave ones spat defiantly where they stood, eager for the challenges where others who were greener gulped and stumbled in fright at the prospect.
Revali declared again. "Center of the wand is a bullseye. And you must only target your stick. Yours will be directly in front of you when you take to the line and draw. As the posts sway side to side, you must take your aim and land a bullseye. Only a bullseye will count as a hit. So, I suggest you aim true." Revali demonstrated, taking himself to one of the marked lines, acting out the ordeal yet, not releasing a shaft.
"You will only be given ten arrows to test your skills. Only a bullseye will count as part of the tally. Once struck, your wand will spin under the contraption and display again with a fresh target for another arrow to pierce. Those who manage to hit the most targets in the allotted time will be safe from elimination. Those in the top half of twenty-five of each round will advance to the next challenge. And if by some goddess miracle one of you scores all four targets, a bell will chime to notify your squire of your victory. He will then raise your banner here on the platform and hoist it on the pole. Where it will wave proudly for all to see. Those who don't score or fail to meet the threshold in time will be disqualified from the rest of the games. Only the best may proceed."
The proud Rito grinned again. "Oh, and by the way...You'll only have one minute!"
Revali then scoured the bunch of hopefuls who were huddled together in ranks. They were all shapes and sizes, rich, poor and in between. Some of the mean and ugly men glowered back at Revali and some others who were sleek, fancy-dressed in their shiny armor were haughty and shrugged the challenge nonchalantly. There were even those who were shaking in their boots on the verge to piss themselves. And then lastly, there was Link, young and daring.
Revali huffed and was unfazed by the taunted stares of those who thought themselves strong and brawny and continued to peer into all the contenders as if evaluating what they may or may not achieve. As his eyes glided over the watchful stares of the contestants, his stern gaze finally rested on Link. But as quick as he did so, he turned away to face those onlooking in the stands.
"When I give the signal, give these people a show of ferocity the likes they never seen!" he said, cuing a stagehand to bring him a device. A short man rushed up the planks of steps and while bear-hugging with both hands, gave a rather large device covered by a velvet cloth to the Arch-Master. Revali flung the soft fabric and unveiled the mysterious item which turned out to be a massive, brass hourglass, so those that were watching above could also see. But unlike a normal hourglass, the grains of sand of this would empty in just one minute. "Now, the first set of fifty men, take to your lines and when I wave, and you hear the sound of the bell, you may begin your fury!"
Applause broke out again as the first round of men marched over to their positions. Fortunately, for Link, he had to wait for the second round where his group of fifty would try for glory. And he wasn't about to complain either. This way, he could get an idea for how the game was played. It was customary for the nobility who joined the contest to compete and showcase their talents first. Those of lower birth or who weren't knighted by some liege or that would have to wait for their chance to prove their worth.
Back in the royal booth, excitement shone across everyone's face. Noticing the princess's worried demeanor, Arasmus leaned generously to the ear of Zelda, voice laced with a hint of condescension, "I do say, I wonder what showing your champion will give us when it's his turn? The bar doesn't seem too high for even a common boy like him, I bet he'd be lucky to make even two pings."
Zelda, feeling a mix of irritation and nervousness, instinctively wiped sweat from her hands onto the tablecloth. Before she could craft a response, her uncle came to her defense, "I'll take that bet."
Arasmus, taken aback, questioned, "Uh, excuse me?"
"The bet," her uncle clarified. "Of her champion landing only two pings."
Arasmus, smirking contentedly, said, "Actually, I said he'd be lucky to manage just two targets. But, he does have the hope of the princess in his corner, so the very least he'll probably walk away with one. Besides, this challenge doesn't seem too difficult. And they say miracles happen every day."
"Well, I think he will do better than that," her uncle retorted. "So, I'll take you on your proposition. No miracles needed."
Arasmus, surprised, blinked. "Um, you will?"
"Why not? My niece has a knack for scouting undiscovered talent. I think the lad will score all four targets. What say you?"
"Four targets, my prince?" Arasmus laughed, almost choking on his food. "I think he'll be lucky to hit two. But for my Sundelion's sake, I hope he does well. That being as it may, you are my Prince, so I'll accept your bet, but only if she's comfortable with it."
Zelda, masking her true feelings, forced a smile and fluttered her eyelashes sweetly. "Oh, it's quite alright by me. It should make things interesting," she replied, her friends nodding in agreement.
Arasmus set down his goblet. "Then how does five gold gems sound, My Prince?"
Prince Arcturus, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, challenged Arasmus, "Only five gold gems? Surely, you must have more conviction in your decision than that? Why stop there? Let's make things a bit more interesting, shall we?" He took a hearty gulp from his mug, wiping the froth from his chin.
Arasmus, attempting to maintain a light-hearted tone, replied, "Well, I was merely trying to make things in good fun—"
"Nonsense, we're all friends here," interjected Prince Arcturus. "We can do a proper bet. How about we wager something you really want, hmm?"
Arasmus, intrigued, leaned in. "And what is that, My Prince?"
"A bit of territory within the crowned lands, or what your people affectionately have named the contested lands," Prince Arcturus stated, capturing the attention of those around him.
Arasmus, unable to fully cloak his interest, subtly perked his ears and narrowed his eyes, though he maintained his veneer of lordly charm.
Prince Arcturus, sensing the shift in Arasmus' demeanor, continued. "The Ruby Ford, which has been under the banner of my own house since the River-Cross rebellion some twenty odd years ago. Whose land once belonged to were that of your former banner-men and vassals—"
"But, they broke faith with House Draene and the crown, aiding our enemies during the war," Arasmus interjected, his tone laced with a hint of bitterness.
"Exactly," Prince Arcturus agreed, nodding gravely. "And due to this, your grandfather failed to quell the uprising, allowing treason to flourish under his watch."
Arasmus, with a somber nod, acknowledged, "Yes, and we've paid dearly for it ever since. Many times, over."
Prince Arcturus leaned in; his voice solemn yet earnest. "You have, indeed and I don't doubt the loyalty of House Draene to the crown. The resilience your father showed in restoring order was quite commendable. It was a goddess blessing in of itself with the way he performed so swiftly. With the odds stacked against him that is. However, for the unchecked treachery of your grandsire, a debt was owed. As a result, the crown seized the lands of your vanquished vassal. Am I correct?"
Arasmus, reluctantly admitting the truth, replied, "Well, yes—"
Prince Arcturus, seizing the moment, interjected, "Then, let me propose a new bargain for us this evening, as we place our wager on this game. A deal you'll find quite appealing, one I think you won't want to refuse."
Arasmus leaned forward, intrigued. "I'm listening, My Prince."
"I'll see your five gold gems and add an additional five from my own purse."
"My Prince, are you sure—"
"—I'm prepared to do so and not only that. If you win this game of ours, I will forfeit the Ruby Ford back to its former liege, your father and in turn, yourself. That if you win the bet, henceforth all attendant lands at the Ruby Ford along with its incomes and holdings, your House will inherit once more. From this day to the end of days. That should make this contest more sporting, wouldn't you agree? Surely, this is something you'd want."
Arasmus chortled. "I think you may have mistaken me for my father, My Prince."
"Have I? And here I thought you were the ambitious one."
Arasmus smiled. "Ambition is a funny word you see." The lord said, stewing for a moment, stirring the goblet in his hand in a swirling motion. His gaze reflected in the slosh of the Cremia Red.
He continued. "For some it means wealth, and for others it may be prestige, lands, titles and honor, but for me, I have better conquests that differ from other men. Richer tastes that I would rather satisfy." He said finishing his phrase with a quick glance at the princess, her flowing honey hair a reflective twinkle in his eye. He then turned to face Arcturus and cleared his throat. "That being said, I'm merely content with the former wager proposed. Besides, what do I offer back, should I lose our bet? Is there any particular land you wish to acquire in return, and if so, I should need the permission of my father to make such a declaration, I am not the liege lord of the Stonelands, yet."
Arcturus rubbed his chin thoughtfully and with a smirk quipped back. "There is no need. Should you lose, then you must surrender ten gold gems in return. That should be sufficient. No lands on your end."
"Are you sure, that is quite the generous offer. You risk much in this endeavor whereas I offer back very little by comparison."
"What fun in life is there if not without its risks. So, you see, you really have nothing to lose. But everything to gain. What is ten gold rupees compared to all the territory and wealth of the Ruby Ford?"
"Indeed."
Zelda, concerned, gently placed her hand on Arcturus' arm. "Are you sure, uncle? I know you care for me, but I don't want you to suffer a loss because of my choices or if things go afoul. I never intended for you to get involved with me and my choice of Helmsworth—"
"—Shh, it's fine, my dear. I'm confident in our young champion. More importantly, I'm confident in you."
There was no use dissuading him, Zelda knew, her uncle was quite the thrill-seeker. Like other Hyrules, he was stubborn once he made up his mind. She understood the feeling all too well.
The older Prince chortled again, attempting to set her young mind and heart at ease. "And besides, I'm old enough to make my own decisions in regard to my own household. You are not to blame my sweet niece should our friend down there miss his luck."
"Luck, is it?" Arasmus scoffed silently at the confidence displayed by Prince Arcturus, but the prince overheard and firmly stated, "Yes, because unlike you, I do believe in him. He will win."
"Well, for yours and my Princess's sake, I hope so."
Back on the field, Revali poised the hourglass high up for all to see, about to turn it over. "Now, on your marks, get ready, steady..." Anticipation swelled and a stillness hushed the entire arena, suddenly, a whole kingdom fell silent as they watched and listened for his final command.
"GO!" The game began with a flourish marked by a final rocket that blazed and screamed into the air leaving a trail of smoke, exploding showers of red and silver starlight. The onlookers hooted and hollered as men drew back their bowstrings and reached for their quivers. A surge of adrenaline rushed through the arena and the stands. Everyone was on their toes.
The targets came alive and swayed side to side, dodging the volley of arrows that rained down upon them. For the first ten seconds it seemed nobody would be able to land their mark. Men gritted their teeth in frustration and others cursed under their breath as each new attempt drew them closer to failure. The whistling of shafts sang a song of near misses as they hit only empty air. And as the sands fell, tensions rose to a fever pitch.
The princess, her friends, and the king and other dignitaries were glued to the show.
Suddenly, the first ping finally rang out across the arena, snapping back the attention of Zelda and the nobles. Thirty seconds had passed since the hopefuls began their attempts, and now, a well-dressed lord on the field, flanked by his two squires, reveled in their cheers. His lads, each hollering conflicting advice, only added to the lord's confusion. More pings soon followed, signaling that some contestants had found their rhythm, though it was difficult to discern who was leading amidst the roar of the competition.
Prince Arcturus, sensing the mounting excitement, raised his mug, contributing to the playful tension. "Not much time left until the next round, My Lord. So, do you accept? The wager involving the Ruby Ford, I mean, not the earlier trivial one."
Arasmus, considering the stakes, nodded with a tilt of his head, signaling his agreement. "If you insist, My Prince. For a thousand rupees and the Ruby Ford, we have a deal. But let's remember, it's all in good fun, regardless of the outcome, right?"
"Certainly," Prince Arcturus agreed, his voice resonating with excitement. The wager had added another electrifying layer to the already thrilling contest unfolding below.
In the arena, the last grains of sand were slipping through the hourglass. Revali, with a watchful eye, soared into the air, his gaze alternating rapidly between the contestants and the dwindling sands. As the final grain fell, a loud bell resounded, echoing deeply through the stands, and capturing the attention of every spectator.
Revali's commanding voice pierced through the tension. "And stop! Lower your bows and step back! This contest has concluded!"
The audience, now buzzing with anticipation, eagerly awaited the announcement of the results, their attention riveted on Revali as he prepared to declare the outcome of this intense round of competition.
The range of emotions among the men was palpable. A few, confident in their prowess, sported broad grins that stretched from ear to ear, whereas more expressed their frustration through curses, kicking up the muddy sands or by flinging their bows across the yard in defeat. One particularly proud lord adorned in rich fabrics and light armor took a bow so elegant it seemed he already considered himself the victor of the entire tournament, drawing blushed cheers from his lady admirers and snickers from those who found his display overly presumptuous.
Link, standing beside his loyal squire, observed the scene in silence, mentally preparing for his turn.
As Revali fanned his feathers, attempting to calm the energized crowd, a loud crack of thunder split the clouds overhead, silencing the audience better than any command could. Link began to feel the patter of rain as they dripped over his visor, every ping rattling his suit of armor, a cautious reminder of the ever-changing elements. Of course, just my luck.
"And now the tally will be counted! But, before we begin the final round, we will have a short intermission of ten minutes," Revali announced. "My lords and fair ladies, now would be the time for some refreshment, before we commence the better part of this game!"
In the royal booth, Zelda leaned back, whispering to Urbosa, "I sure hope he's ready. This fickle skyfall we're having today could make this challenge even more impossible."
Urbosa replied reassuringly, "Don't worry, I'm sure he's trained in similar circumstances before. And besides, what does your heart tell you?"
Zelda glanced down to a napkin she just noticed she'd been squeezing instinctively, loosening her grip. Letting out a sigh, she managed to lift her worried expression. "He will win...I know he will..." She said softly.
Urbosa nodded and placed her hand on Zelda's shoulder. "Then have faith. And let your heart guide you, Little bird."
Arasmus, overhearing their exchange, added with a smirk, "Indeed, I'm curious as well to see if your champion's aim is as true in the rain as it is in fair weather. I wonder if he can really pull it off," he said, raising his cup for a cheering gesture with Arturus who only nodded forward in quiet confidence. "This should add an interesting twist to our little wager."
Zelda, masking her concern with a composed smile, perked up in her seat. "Indeed, it will make his victory all the more impressive."
As the intermission came to its close, Revali took to the arena stage once more and made a declaration. "The final tally is in, and It appears, seventeen failed to land a single shaft on target, and for that reason will be automatically disqualified from the rest of tournament." The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and boos. Some of the contestants were enraged and stomped forward scoffing as if the results were rigged. Those who bet and lost fortunes in the audience also spat where they stood. Revali was having none of the outcry and amplified his voice to regain control. "Silence!" he commanded, and the arena fell quiet.
He cleared his throat to continue. "And then, there were fifteen of you who managed to strike only a single target," he said, his wings spanning over the hopefuls in a scoffing gesture. "Even less successfully struck two posts—thirteen to be precise. And then, we are left with the top five of these challengers who to their credit, landed three bullseyes! Our winners thus far!"
Revali pointed toward the throng at each of the five men who were victorious, signaling them up to the stage for a well-earned bow. "As triumphant as these men were," he said, the praise dissipating from his tone. "It is with regret that I must say, no-one mastered the trial and struck all four targets. Though these eighteen men will be safe from elimination, we still have no champion over this contest yet. Perhaps, the next round will bear more fruit!"
Some of the contestants exchanged bewildered looks, their faces etched with confusion and disappointment. The reality that only eighteen would advance weighed heavily in the air.
One of the lordly contenders, clad in the finest armor Link has ever seen rushed up the steps to interrogate the proud Rito, his colorful cloak laced in gold trim billowing behind him. "I'm sorry, my lord, or whoever you are, but I think I must have misheard you. Forgive me, but it almost sounded like you said only those who accomplished landing two or more targets will be moving on to the next trials."
"You heard right," Revali replied, unfazed by the lord's incredulity. Other contestants swarmed over as well, eager to challenge the ruling.
Revali, standing his ground, met their discontent with a steely gaze, shoving past the unruly lord. "I'm sorry, but this is a contest for winners and if you can hardly land a single target, then you are disqualified. Now, does anyone else wish to question the rules...or, shall I personally show you how it's done?" he said, stepping forward. "But, know this, I won't be loosing my arrows at any targets." Revali's eyed flared and his tone was a cold as the rain showering overhead. "AndI don't miss."
The haughty man stepped back with a gulp and conceded to Revali's subtle threat. Others followed his lead and cleared the stage also which allowed Revali to resume the games.
From the royal booth, Zelda watched the whole altercation unravel, turning to Purah with curiosity, "What do you suppose that was all about?"
Purah shrugged, her voice laced with nonchalance. "Who knows? Probably just bruised egos. Maybe they thought their titles would carry them through. Sheesh, gimme a break. We're looking for champions here."
Back at ground level, Revali took charge of the crowd yet again and losers, with heads hung low cleared the field. Those who had survived the first round sought shelter under a nearby canopy, finding a moment's respite from the downpour and the tension of the competition. Here, they eagerly rubbed their hands together with the fog of their breath, warming their numb fingers from the chill now the need to yank on bowstrings had passed. For the time has come now to see if skill and courage could triumph over lineage and prestige. Link's group was next.
Revali made another decree and called the remaining contestants to take to the sands and get into their positions. Jun, with an encouraging grin, turned to Link. "You ready, sir?"
Link managed only a nod in response, his nerves tangling his words. The rain intensified, adding to the mounting pressure. And before he could depart his squire, another man standing by called out to him.
"You there, fool, aren't you forgetting something?" said a tall man wearing blackened steel plate and roughened leathers. Oddly enough, he bore the Draene banner across his chest. The Fire Serpent. What is a Dragoon doing taking part in a competition such as this?Link thought. But there was no time to dwell on such things. The game has begun.
Link turned back around, to face the soldier. Jun, already scowling at the brute was just about to give him a piece of his mind when Link took the reins and spoke. "What's that you said?"
"Your quiver, man! You're walking up to the line without your quiver! How do you intend to loose off arrows without your sheaf? Hmm!?"
Jun blinked, realizing his folly, and mumbled to himself aloud. "But I just strapped on his quiver, where could have it gone? Surely, Sir just had it on." the boy frantically looked about for it in the staging section, confused.
Realizing he was indeed unequipped; Link almost fell into an inner panic. Other contenders walked up to their lines and were already in position. They were just waiting for Revali's command. Time was slipping fast, and Link needed his arrows if he was to make it to the next round at all.
The brute, lifting his visor to reveal a grimaced smile, offered a solution. "Here, take some of mine. The fools earlier handing out bundles gave me more than I needed. We're only allowed ten, remember? I have fourteen."
Link felt a wave of relief. If they split them evenly, then that still leaves seven each. Surely, he can land a couple hits if he focuses hard enough. It will be tough but not impossible.
The man chuckled rudely with a deep voice. "Here, you can have four. Ain't no way I'm sacrificing any of my ten for you." He said with a hint of disdain toward Link and his squire. Jun had just found the quiver but mysteriously, the arrows they were given earlier had vanished. Jun was baffled, he could've sworn he had already armed Link with them but perhaps in all the excitement, a mistake could have been made. But even stewing on that, he felt that very unlikely. In any case, they had a quiver now, all was left to load the arrows in.
Jun, about to approach Link and strap him his quiver for a second time, was halted by him. "It's fine Jun. I'll manage without it. It's unnecessary at this point."
Jun scratched his head under his feather cap. "Huh? What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, that jerk only lent me four arrows. I can just hold them all in my hand. It's easier that way to be honest—and quicker too. My only worry now is—"
"—Is not to miss." Jun finished his sentence. All the while adding some caution to the wind. "It's going to be very tough getting through this mist and deluge, though. So, you gotta' focus hard sir."
"Gee, thanks Jun..."
"No problem, sir." The boy smiled, glad to be of service. And with that, Link made haste to his line in the sand and saw the dreaded target up ahead of him. It might as well been two-hundred leagues away, it looked so far. A thin post, no wider than twice an arrowhead stuck atop a wooden deck. And if that wasn't enough, once triggered it would sway side to side in a fury. After the bell there would be only one minute, so he had to make every second count.
Those in the royal box watched with anticipation as Revali held the hourglass up high for a final time for all to see. In a split decision, he turned it over and the match began. "Go!" he declared, to the chime of a ringing bell and another rocket bursting colors overhead.
A deJa'Vu of exhilarating adrenaline took hold of contenders and spectators alike. Zelda most of all could barely look and as she tried to shield her gaze with her fingers, she couldn't help but peek through. Every second felt like a lifetime and just as Link was about to try for his target which seemed like blur through fog and rain, something happened.
A sudden twitch of nerves seized the grip he had on his string and his knees buckled slightly in the commotion. The furious onslaught of arrows and shouts of people hollering rang in his ears and then everything went grey.
Link's surroundings blurred and shifted, and when the greyness disappeared, he was left with nothing but clear blue sky. Somehow, he transported back to his childhood, to a boy just six years old andjust recently taught how to use a bow.Even younger than how Jun is now.
Back in those days, Link and his parents didn't live in Castletown and were settled in Zora's Domain. But, on this particular day, Link remembered it well.He and his father were on a journey, away from the sounds of rushing currents and splashing waterfalls.Here the day was crisp, chilly, and fresh pillows of snow had just fallen on the road along the winding pass.
They were headed for a camping trip in the wooded mountains.For today was a special day. Link's father had planned yet another one of his famous lessons.
"So, you're pretty good with a stave, I hear. That's good, but you've still got a bit to learn with a spear. Don't think I haven't heard about the mischief you and Bazz have been getting into," his father said, his voice a blend of humor and mild reproof.
Little Link, feeling a twinge of guilt, slumped in the wagon seat. Mom must have told him what happened. Boy, am I going to get it now.
"Three pots, was it? Or four?" his father mused, stroking his mustache, and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Never mind, the number doesn't matter. You broke them. Really, Link, haven't I trained you better? I thought you'd be able to play with the other boys without causing trouble, especially with other people's belongings," he gently scolded.
Link, not usually one for many words, managed to stammer, "It wasn't me, honest sir. Bazz wanted, well, he wanted to—"
"—It doesn't matter. You are my son, not him and you were the one who got caught. So, by everyone else's recollection, you were the culprit."
Link cast his gaze downward, feeling the weight of his father's words. The family's old grey mule, pulling their small cart, snorted and came to a halt, yawing slightly. Sensing his son's disheartened mood, Link's father shifted the conversation with a sigh. "Look, son, you're not in trouble, but promise me you'll be more forthcoming next time. I shouldn't have to hear about your shenanigans from strangers. And remember, we're guests in the Domain. We're fortunate they've been so gracious to take us in. Zora don't often welcome outsiders to live with them. At least, not for years on end.
Link shifted in his seat and listened while his father prattled on. "I think that is in no small part in thanks to you," he said, trying to cheer him up. "From what I hear, their princess has taken quite a kinship to you. Is that true?"
"Yes," Link said humbly.
"Well, be careful boy, because the feelings of a princess is no small matter, no matter her size." His father counseled sternly. After a second or two admiring the scenic route he nodded affirmatively on the matter, pleased in his decision. "Still, I would rather you try and reframe from play with her if you can altogether. I know you may like her company, but we can't afford any misunderstandings with the Zora Royal Family. Like I said, we're guests in the Domain and it's gotta stay that way for some time. And besides, you're getting older and before you know it, you'll be a man grown. I mean, you're already at the proper age to be a page."
Link only listened quietly in his seat and didn't utter a phrase.
His father looked down at him. "So, are you up for it? To become a page? Soon after you'll be a squire and if you're lucky, maybe even a cadet for the Royal Guard. Not even I had that opportunity. How does that sound?"
Suddenly, Link did speak. "Papa," he said gingerly.
"Yes, son?"
"Why did we leave the Capital? Why aren't we living with our...well you know, Hylians like us?" Link asked as they sat still in the old wagon.
"I thought you like the Domain?" His father Tye asked, confused.
Link shook his head, perhaps his father got the wrong idea. "I do sir, but...actually, I really, really do. I mean, most of all my friends are here, well, it's just... It's just..."
"You miss Sven, huh?"
Link nodded.
"And, I bet you miss his sweet mother's Burntberry pies too?" Tye said with a heart chuckle.
Link lifted his head, trying to conceal his grin.
"Well, son, when you're older, I'll tell you why we can't stay in the capital. But, as for now, let us enjoy our day. So, how confident are you with a bow?"
Link glanced up to his Pa and squeaked out. "I, uh, well, I've gotten many bullseyes Sir on Mister Frego's haybales. Actually, I gotten more than some of the soldiers who train there." Suddenly, Link's demeanor changed from a stern frown to a grin pulling at his lips as he told his story. "They say that they never seen someone get so many at my age. Princess Mipha said that if I was a Zora, I'd be able to even join their army someday—"
"—Now, now, Son, what did I say about bragging? Hmm?"
Link slunk back again. "I know Sir, it's just—"
"—It's bad manners, that's what it is. It's good to feel proud about your accomplishments, but don't ever let it lose sight of who you are."
"And who am I, papa? Why is it I am just as good as some of the older men? I can see on their faces they are trying so hard and well, for me it's like, it's like—"
"—Like it comes natural for you?" Tye smiled again, wiggling his mustache as he always did when his heart swelled with pride. "Well, son, that conversation is for another day, when you're a man grown. And besides, you may be good at hitting men made of straw, but can you land your arrow on a true, living target?"
Suddenly, a wave of nerves shivered over Link, and it wasn't due to the frosty chill that day.
"Well?" Tye asked again.
Link spoke up. "No Sir, I haven't."
"Well, it's much different I can tell you that. Everything about it is different. To take a life is no small thing. All life is sacred, so it must be respected. From the food we eat to the enemies we face who come to hurt us. Never do harm, unless its absolutely needed. You understand?"
Link stewed on his words and nodded respectfully.
"Good, now help me set up camp." He said, patting Link's lap in the wagon. "This will be the perfect spot for our base of operations til the morrow. Gotta get a fire going soon as possible too or we won't be able to find our way back. Because this afternoon we will be going on foot, you and I." Tye hopped from the carriage and marveled at the scenery, hands on his hips. The tall trees with their gray leaves were dusted with fresh powder and whistled as the wind blew. The rustling of a nearby stream could be heard as the water lapped against its banks. An eagle high above in the crystal blue sky shrieked as it spotted nearby prey.
"Ready?" Tye asked wearing a grin.
Link smiled back and proceeded to unload the wagon and hitch the mule.
After several hours of trekking through the dense woods, Link and his father found themselves at the edge of a snow-covered clearing. Armed with only their bows and knives, they moved with the stealth and caution of seasoned hunters. Though, in reality, this would be Link's first adventure of this sort. In the distance, about twenty yards away, a deer was foraging, its antlers brushing away frost in search of any edible grass.
Crouching beside Link in the thicket, with a tree partially obscuring their presence, his father whispered guidance. "Remember, silence is key. We'll put snow in our mouths to mask the fog of our breath. Then, you can ready your bow."
Link mimicked his father, kneeling and scooping up a handful of snow, feeling its coldness numb his lips. He fought the urge to shiver, the icy sensation filling his mouth as he focused on the task at hand and slowly reached for his bow.
"Select your sharpest arrow and aim carefully," his father instructed in a hushed tone.
Link obeyed, his small fingers trembling slightly as he nocked the arrow. His father's voice, soft yet firm, guided him further. "Wait for the deer to pause. Breathe in deeply when it stops moving and then you may release. Only then you'll be able to land your target true."
The buck, unaware of their presence, continued its search for food. It paused momentarily, ears twitching, eyes searching the surroundings. Link remained motionless, camouflaged by his snow-tunic and the natural backdrop.They were also downwind, another lesson taught by his Father.
"Now, pull back the string and steady your hand. It's challenging, but don't falter. Any sudden movement, and the buck will spot you," his father warned.
Link, drawing on his newfound hunting skills and his father's teachings, held the bowstring taut, his young eyes fixed on the deer, waiting for the perfect moment to release the arrow. Fighting against the chill remained a vigilant cause and the deer seemed to not stand still. Link felt his arms tire pulling on the heavy bow never intended for a child, yet soldiered on.
As the perfect shot seemed imminent, Link's resolve wavered. A sudden empathy for the deer washed over him. He could almost hear the creature's breath, sense its heartbeat racing — a living being, unaware of the looming danger. Link, who had never ended a life, felt an unfamiliar fear take hold, freezing him in place. His father, noticing Link's hesitation, whispered urgently, "Son, are you alright? Link?"
But Link was motionless as a frozen statue, his arrow aimlessly pointing away from the deer. Link's father spoke again. Son, what's the matter? Now's your chance."
His father's stern voice broke Link's paralysis, but only enough for him to release the arrow off into the scenery, missing its target entirely. In that moment of distraction, the deer sensed Link's presence. Startled, it darted across the clearing with swift urgency.
Link's father, realizing the opportunity was slipping away, stood up and urged his son with growing intensity, "Again Link, he's getting away! Go for it! What are you waiting for?! Get him, Link!"
Link, still grappling with his emotions, couldn't bring himself to loose another shaft. A blur of steam clouded his vision as tears began to roll down his cheeks and with his young heart heavy with conflict, he aimed another arrow. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't find the will to let it fly. "C'mon, Son! Get him! Link!" his father called, but Link was lost in his turmoil.
Seeing his son's inner struggle, Link's father knew he had to act. He quickly drew his own bow, aiming high into the sky to account for the distance. With a skilled shot, the hunt was over — the deer was slain, and the lesson took on a new, unexpected weight on his heart.
Back at the tournament, a loud crash of lightning electrified a nearby pole waving Hyrule's banner and flashed the entire area, blinding everyone and awaking Link. He found himself back in the present, standing with bow in hand and arrow nocked. His squire was shouting, desperately pleading for him to act. How long was I out for? He thought, gathering his bearings.
In the royal booth, things were as intense as ever. Zelda could hardly look but couldn't turn away. Like a moth to the flame her heart sank as she watched.
"C'mon Helmsworth, you can do this. Please, don't give up now." She mumbled silently to herself, as if praying.
Arasmus couldn't help himself but overhear. Leaning forward after taking another delightful swig of his cup, he spoke. "It looks like your champion has gotten cold fingers and has cucco'ed out, my Sweet Sundelion. What a pity..."
He then turned his attention to the prince who now sat arms folded. "What were you saying again, My Prince, 'the princess has a keen eye for talent'? I say, she just has an acquired taste for a pretty face and the hopeless."
Arcturus clarified. "I stand by my decision, and my wager, My Lord. If he falters you will indeed inherit the gems of my purse."
Zelda's brows furrowed into a frown, but before she could speak, Arasmus clarified gently with a raised hand. "But that is exactly why I cherish her. Such a sweet spirit she has; I mean, after all, someone must look after the hopeless." Others who weren't Zelda's friends, nodded in agreement.
The seneschal, with his silk laden tongue also spoke truth to the matter."Truly, the goddess lives within her," He feigned a sigh. "What a kind soul we have among us. We should be so lucky."
Arasmus chortled, egged on by his friends. "It's true, I even hear she invited some other commons to join us for the feasts these next three days. An inspiration to us all." They all laughed in agreement again. "Isn't that right, Sundelion. A wedding is to happen I'm told?" he said, now facing her.
It was all she could do was to force a smile instead of slapping him. Instead, she returned her attention to the game unfolding. Time was slipping fast and Helmsworth hasn't made a shot at all. In fact, he hasn't even loosed an arrow at all. The whole time he has been frozen stiff.
Back on the field things were rising to a fever pitch. "Sir, what are you waiting for!?" Jun hollered at Link; mirroring his father's words from his past, worry strained across his face. "C'mon, you can do it! You can make this! Please, wake up! You only have ten more seconds!" he pleaded.
And then, something triggered inside Link. For all his life he has been told to keep his talents hidden, lest he draw attention from others. And suddenly, after a lifetime of training and all the late-night speeches, after all the struggles and lessons from his father, he was now ready. He won't fail, not this time.
Through the haze of confusion and the shouts of the crowd, Link heard his squire. In a blink and a breath that fogged the frosty air, Link found his cool resolve, steadied his quivering arm and shook away his doubts. The world slowed around him and the seconds grew still in his mind as he unleashed shaft after shaft in short succession at the hazy targets off in the distance. Mouths in the stands dropped, cheers erupted and those in the royal booth were stunned, unable to believe their lying eyes. Surely, what they were witnessing was impossible, right?
Could it be true? As if planned all along, the young contender sent a blitz of arrows that screamed as they sliced through the chill wind like forward missiles, each pelting their marks true. Five seconds left and the princess sprang from her seat, her gaze glued on Helmsworth and with both fists clenched in nervous anticipation. A smile slowly curled at her lips as she realized the inevitable conclusion. Her heart sang to the song of his arrows landing.
Around and round the reel spun, ringing like music to her ears. Faster and faster each time revealing a new post to hit and one after the other they were struck with perfect precision. With just two seconds to spare the sands of the counting clock of the hourglass fell. Revali flapped over just to make sure and as the last ones sank to the lower chamber, the contest was over. The Rito master fanned out his feathers wide with a shout to silence all on the field. "And game! Lower your bows and stand back! Let the tallies be counted!"
Link had struck all four targets with a perfect score to sound of ringing bells. An exhilarated Jun darted to hoist their flag proudly for all to see and with that, the last target sank into the deck, igniting a solitary rocket to commemorate the achievement in blue and gold sparks. Link had won the round.
"You were saying, My Lord?" Zelda said to Arasmus, trying to conceal her gloating smile befitting of a sweet maiden.
"I uh,…uh," the lord stammered, at an utter loss for words.
Zelda's uncle rose from his chair and reached over Arasmus and swiped the purse that sat on the table with the rupees spilled out. "I'll be taking those," he finished with a chortle. "All in good fun I trust, right?"
The stunned lord shook his head of what he just witnessed and glanced up to the Prince. "Um, right, of course. All in good fun," he said, slumping back into his seat with a phony laugh, dumfounded how it could have ended this way.
Zelda all the while was walking on a cloud, being congratulated by her friends while Lord Arasmus couldn't help but sit there dwelling on the matter. There seems to be more to this soldier than I thought. I must find out who he is before he becomes a problem.
Authors Note: Hello friends, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Just a few more until we return to the current part of the story. Please, let me know your thoughts. Comments help the story more than you can imagine. Thanks and enjoy.